


Complications

by Trinadecker



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Gen, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-08
Updated: 2013-11-08
Packaged: 2017-12-31 20:20:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trinadecker/pseuds/Trinadecker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma has a bit of a breakdown after the events of the Echo Cave, because, c'mon, who wouldn't? Mother/Daughter comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Complications

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a short drabble I wrote after I watched the episode. It's not been edited, so I apologize if anything's wrong.

Emma’s brain is in overload.

She can't even begin to process what had happened in the last hour. How could she? Neal is alive and Hook has… _feelings_ for her. She isn't sure how she feels about those feelings. Does she reciprocate them?

_No,_ , she thinks, and shakes her head to clear it. She can’t deal with those emotions, whatever they may be, right now. Everything is too complicated. She’d told Neal that she would always love him, and she’d meant it, but she can’t handle a relationship with him either. She can't put herself through all of that pain, not again.

Right now, she needs to just focus on Henry, but that's hard when she has one man on either side of her, one of them telling her he would never stop fighting for her and the other looking at her like somebody had just ran over his puppy. And then there's Mary Margaret, shooting tiny, worried glances at her when she thinks Emma isn’t looking.

What she really needs is a break. And maybe a drink, or five. She's just happy that nobody was trying to talk to her. Though, maybe, she thinks, that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Maybe she could bug Killian for some of that rum.

Later that night, when everything had settled down a bit and she's sure nobody's watching, she slips out into the forest. She doesn’t go far from camp, of course. Pan and the lost boys were still out to get them, and Emma doesn’t put it past Pan to jump her if she went more than a few feet out of sight of the others. Here, she's still within shouting distance. She all but collapses onto a rotting log and begins picking at the moss that coats it. She desperately needs a distraction.

Emma's not sure how long she’s been sitting there when her eyes begin to burn and a familiar lump starts to form in her throat. The events of the past few hours are finally beginning to hit her, and before she knows it she's gone from watering eyes to sobbing. She presses a hand over her mouth in an attempt to quiet any of the pitiful noises that were escaping her throat. God, if anybody saw her like this, especially Hook or Neal, or even Regina, she would dig herself a hole and never come out. She lets herself double over so her torso rests on her legs, trying to muffle a high pitched whimper that was apparently going to come out whether she likes it or not.

She's not even sure what she's crying about — Neal’s return, Hook’s confession, her mother’s secret, the fact that her father can never leave Neverland, or the nagging that Henry's still out there. That every day he's without her and Regina and the rest of this messed up family he gets closer to being a lost boy. Maybe she’s crying about all of it.

“Emma? Oh, sweetheart.”

The voice is sweet and sympathetic and oh god, she cannot deal with this. She covers her face in her hands, not sitting back up, just silently willing Mary Margaret to go back to camp.

But she doesn't. Instead, Emma feels her mother take a seat beside her and slide an arm around her back. It’s awkward, both because of the way she’s sitting and because Emma still isn’t used to Mary Margaret acting like a mother to her, but she lets herself be held. Somehow the tears only come harder when the other woman’s hand moves to rub soothing circles over her back, and Mary Margaret doesn't say anything, just lets her cry. When the tears finally begin to slow they’re replaced by the beginnings of a throbbing headache, and Emma finally sits up, one hand on her forehead. She leans into Mary Margaret’s touch and lets her support some of her weight, just a tiny bit. It’s comforting, and Emma can’t bring herself to tell the other woman to go away.

Mary Margaret gives Emma a moment to collect herself before she speaks. “Do you want to talk about it?” Her voice is barely over a whisper, with that same soothing, motherly quality that she’s always had. Emma gives a shrug, not trusting herself to speak. She’s not really sure what she wants, anyways — half of her wants to let everything out, to tell Mary Margaret everything, like she did in the days before she found out she was her mother. The other half of her wants to keep everything bottled up inside like she always does. Have a good cry and then lock all of her emotions in a box and toss them to the back of her mind. She decides that second option probably isn't all that healthy, but right now it sounds damn appealing.

Mary Margaret leans over so that she can see Emma’s face and gives a tiny smile as she removes her hand from Emma’s back to play with her hair. Emma’s eyes are rimmed with red and she can still feel them stinging. She wipes at them self-consciously. After everything, she still doesn't want her mother to see her crying.

It almost makes her laugh.

Mary Margaret must have seen the slight turn in the corner of her lips, because she gives a faint smile too. Her hand drops again from Emma’s hair to back around her arm, and she gives her a slight squeeze.

“You don’t have to decide anything right now, Emma. Just focus on getting Henry back, okay? It’s all going to work out,” Mary Margaret promises. Somehow Emma doubts that her mother’s words true, but the words are comforting for now.


End file.
